


Twist and Turn

by WithoutBringingMeDreams



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: 1x06 missing scene, M/M, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithoutBringingMeDreams/pseuds/WithoutBringingMeDreams
Summary: Just a little 1x06 gap filler





	

Rose’s house is too loud, too thick with people. Why did he insist on coming inside? He hates the frantic crush, the way everyone keeps brushing by him like personal space doesn’t exist, the way Rose is grabbing him now, swaying in time with the music…

_Liar. You know exactly why you came inside_.  

He looks down at Rose in his arms—by mistake; he’d been trying to keep his gaze on her wiggling backside, because hell, that was straight enough, right?— and she takes the opportunity to pucker up for a kiss.

He gives her what she wants. Doesn’t hurt him any. It’s a total and complete lack of feeling, actually, which works out perfectly. He needs the numbness. And more alcohol wouldn’t hurt.

“So what exactly is up with Phillip? Is he really stalking you?” Rose asks, and it’s all ruined. Why did she have to say his name?

_Phillip…he made me steal from my dad…to buy drugs._

His heart pounds out of sync with the music. Too fast, which is saying something, because this beat has everyone bouncing around like bobble heads.

“He’s just…he’s just a loser with no friends.”

Holy hell, he’s an amazing liar. How do these words even find the way to his lips?

Or maybe he’s just an expert twister of the truth. Maybe _he’s_ the loser, and all these so-called friends bumping and grinding around him are strangers who’ve never known him at all.

_Is that true, Phillip?_

_Yeah. Sure. Whatever Lukas says._

Fuck.

It’s a million degrees, with Rose’s clingy arms around him, and the waves of people that just keep _moving_ are messing with his head, making everything seem wobbly and out of focus.

He has to get out of there, now, or he’s going to hurl. He rips away from Rose and staggers back towards freedom.

“Lukas? What’s wrong?” She grabs his arms and slows him down.

“N-nothing. Nothing.”

Somewhere nearby, there’s a crash.

It’s just a fallen beer bottle. Just glass. Not a gunshot.

_Not a gunshot._

Another shattering sound explodes against the siding of the house.

“What the fuck!” Rose shouts. “Those fucking idiots!”

Lukas doubles over and vomits. All ten of the forcefully swallowed bites of Helen’s _apology meal_ and a little bit of beer. And probably some of his stomach lining.

“Lukas!” Rose is at his side right away, holding back his hair. “Shit, how much did you drink?”

Three beers. He’s only had three fucking beers.

“’M sorry, baby,” he gets out in between mouthfuls of spit. “Way too much. I think…I think I need to lie down.”

He can’t look Rose in the eye, can’t take her concern or her pity because he _doesn’t fucking deserve it._

He _should_ be kicked in the gut, again and again, for what he’s done. People have _died_ because he’s such a fucking coward.

He folds in on himself and wretches once more, but there’s nothing left to come up.

“You’d better go to my room. These assholes need to leave soon, anyway.” Rose strokes his arm as she speaks, and it makes his eyes sting, because Phillip’s hands on him are bigger, stronger, and it’s all he wants right now.

Yeah, the selfish fucking coward wants to be comforted by the person whose heart he just crushed in a single sentence.

He slams his own hand over his mouth to keep anything else from coming up and dashes toward Rose’s room. A couple is already in there, only half dressed, and he kicks them out with a glare. Doesn’t even have to say a word. That’s what makes him so cool, right?

Never mind that he can’t even seem to keep down air at this point, and that opening his mouth carries the huge risk of more gut-spewing. He slips under the covers of Rose’s bed and curls into a ball.

He squeezes his eyes shut until he can see little stars. He doesn’t expect to sleep. Ever again, at this point. Rose had given him that pill, but it came up with the rest of his stomach contents. Just as well, since he doesn’t want to sleep. There aren’t enough pills to stop the nightmares. The gun he sees every time he closes his eyes. Phillip, lying under the bed, blood pooled around him, skin ashen, eyes vacant and _dead_.

A spasm of guilt shakes his body.  

_Phillip._

How many pills _would_ it take for it to end?

“Okay.” Rose slips into the room. “Most people are heading off. It’s such a mess, though.”

She sighs dramatically as she plops onto the bed. He doesn’t move an inch.

“You feeling any better?”

He moans softly.

Her pointy chin presses into his shoulder as she drapes herself on him. “Next time don’t drink so much, baby. This isn’t exactly how I planned on spending the evening.”

_I just want it to end._

Rose flicks off the lights and settles in beside him. “You better help me clean up in the morning.”

He stares straight ahead, out the window, and waits for dawn.

***

As soon as there’s enough light in the sky for it to be considered day, Lukas is out the front door. He lets the screen go gently so as not to wake up the people still passed out on the couch, then immediately trips over a beer can on the front porch. It rattles down the steps in the loudest possible way, of course.

A low groan comes from the other side of the car parked in the lawn, and he cringes. If whoever’s there goes in and wakes up Rose, he won’t be able to get a minute of peace before she starts blowing up his phone.

Either way, it’s time to make a quick escape.

He gets a foot past the car before the sight registers.

Phillip.

Phillip lying on the ground, face smudged with dirt, an empty bottle of tequila and a stinking pile of vomit beside him. There are also several broken bottles scattered around the car, and one sliver of glass looks like it might have grazed his hand.

_Phillip._

A wave of emotion hits and has Lukas staggering back to the car. _Phillip needs help._ And _he_ needs to protect Phillip, take care of him, hold him close and make sure nothing ever hurts him again. It’s only when he’s kneeling in the dirt that he remembers he’s not the guy who does that. He’s the guy who hits Phillip, cuts him down and pushes him away. He’s the _reason_ Phillip is lying in the mud right now, looking so much like all those nightmares.

Fuck, now he’s gonna cry, like some pussy, because he can’t deal with the guilt. The tears build up in his throat and burn so hot he’s almost choking, grasping at handfuls of dirt as he fights to breathe. In one fistful, he catches a shard of glass and the cold scrape of it finally stills his panic.

The glass is sharp. But is it sharp enough? How sharp would glass have to be to—

Phillip moans again, then coughs. His lips look a little blue. Did the temperature dip overnight? Shit, he’s been out there _all night long._

Lukas drops the glass. Phillip needs action _now_. It’ll be a tough journey, because Phillip is in no state to hold onto him on his bike. He’ll have to figure out some way to walk them both.

“Phillip? C’mon, Phillip. Let’s get out of here.”

“Lu—Lukas?” Phillip mumbles, and reaches up his hand, squinting into the daylight.

He must still be drunk, or he’d never be reaching out to Lukas after what he’s done.

But Lukas takes his hand anyway and tries to ignore the swamp of depression waiting around the corner, when Phillip really wakes up and _hates_ him. He’ll just have to fall apart later. For now, he drapes Phillip on his shoulder and they begin the awkward walk home.

“I got you, Phillip,” he says.

_If only that were true._

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/withoutbringingmedreams


End file.
